Left Behind
by N'kala
Summary: Gordon learns a lesson, but Alan pays the price.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Left Behind Author: N'kala99 Summary: Gordon learns a lesson, but Alan pays the price.  
Disclaimer: They're not mine.  
Author's Note: Just playing around, having some fun. 

Left Behind Chapter One

"Gordon, wait up!"

Fifteen-year-old Gordon Tracy quickly grabbed his friend's arm and began to walk faster toward the school parking lot. "C'mon, Mark, move it. I thought you were on the track team!"

Mark Teague gave Gordon a bewildered look. "Why're you rushing me? The car ain't goin' anywhere."

"Gordon! Wait!"

Mark glanced back at a familiar blond head trying to fight through the massive crowd towards them. "Hey, isn't your kid brother trying to get your attention?"

Gordon didn't glance back; he only quickened his pace. "Mark, let's go! I don't want us to get stuck taking Alan home. If we do, then Dad might make me stay, too, and I wanna hit the mall. Let's go!"

Twelve-year-old Alan Tracy pushed his way between two high school students and stopped when he saw his brother disappear into the growing crowd. He scowled, angry. Gordon had promised to take him home today. If only the middle school and high school were attached, rather than across the street. Maybe he would have made it in time.

Alan looked around, feeling rather small in a crowd of teenagers in the midst of growth spurts. He had another brother in high school; all he had to do was find him.

A group of teenage boys around seventeen looked vaguely familiar, and Alan followed them. They were heading for a couple more teens that Alan couldn't make out. As he drew closer, he finally recognized Virgil, smiling and laughing with another boy beside his car. He broke into a run. "Virgil!"

Whether or not Virgil heard him, Alan didn't know. Virgil and a few of his friends piled into Virgil's car, and they peeled out of the parking lot as quick as they could. Alan stopped yet again and threw his backpack onto the ground in anger.

"Fine!" he shouted after Virgil's retreating car. "I guess I know enough to take a hint!"

Ignoring the dirty looks he was receiving, Alan picked his backpack up and began to walk towards the street. It was a thirty-minute trip by car to his home on the other side of the city, and it was even longer on foot. His father was not going to be happy when he got home.

**AT HOME**

Scott and John glanced up from the television as their younger brother Virgil walked into the house. Virgil nodded to them and flopped onto a chair nearby.

"How was school?" Scott asked, smirking slightly.

Virgil smirked back. "Wise ass. Not all of us get a three week break in the middle of the semester."

"Not our fault," John said. "Although, I'm not really put out by it."

"Yeah, I can see that," Virgil shot back.

"Where's Alan?" Scott asked.

Virgil shrugged. "I dunno, haven't seen him all day. I think he's getting a ride with Gordon. Where's Dad? Still at the office?"

"What do you think?" John asked darkly.

Scott looked at him. "John-."

"Don't start, Scott," John cut him off. "We hardly see him enough as it is, and he can't find it in him to take a few evenings off to spend with his family."

He stood abruptly and stormed out of the room. A few moments later, Scott and Virgil could hear the front door slam shut, and they exchanged looks before turning back to the television set.

* * *

John allowed his hands to steer the car in an aimless direction, his mind too filled with frustration, hurt, and anger to concentrate. He guided his car through the streets before he found himself in the parking lot of the mall. He was a little surprised; he hadn't been to the mall in years. It really wasn't a place he liked to frequent. Deciding to take a walk around inside and cool down, John exited his car and went inside.

It wasn't very crowded, even for a Thursday afternoon. A few shoppers were wading through merchandise, weaving in and out of the stores. John barely paid them any mind as he walked around, working through his anger. It wasn't often that he felt so worked up, but when he did, it took him a while to calm down.

A sudden outburst of laughter nearby caused John to spin around and look for the cause. Two teenagers were laughing uncontrollably at a third, who was covered in what look like pizza sauce. John was about to continue his walk when his sharp blue eyes caught sight of one of the laughing teens.

"Gordon?" John paused, confused. Gordon hadn't mentioned coming to the mall after school, though at fifteen he really didn't have to ask for permission. But looking at the two boys he was with, neither one looked like Alan.

John turned and began to walk towards his younger brother. When he reached Gordon, he grabbed Gordon's arm and spun him around.

"Hey, wha!" Gordon stopped when he saw John's frowning face. "Uh, hi, Johnny. What're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," John shot back. "Where's Alan?"

"Alan?" Gordon repeated dumbly.

"Yeah, our little brother, about yay high?" John held out a hand about Alan's height. He saw Gordon's eyes flicker, and felt a sense of unease building. Whenever Gordon did that, he was trying to do some quick thinking. John's eyes narrowed. "Gordon, where is Alan?"

"Oh, Alan, yeah," Gordon replied. "See, he's, um . . ."

"Don't tell me that you left Alan alone at school," John stated. "Don't tell me that our twelve-year-old brother is right now on his own, trying to get home for the last forty-five minutes."

"Um, okay," Gordon replied weakly.

"You left him alone?" John shouted. "Gordon, for God's sake, he's twelve! What the hell were you thinking?"

During the exchange, Gordon's friends had edged away, hoping to escape unnoticed. John paid them no mind. He was focused wholly on Gordon.

"I thought he'd catch a ride with Virgil!" Gordon insisted, lying out of his teeth in desperation.

"Virgil didn't know anything about that!" John yelled. He forced Gordon back towards the direction he'd come, walking as fast as he could while still dragging his brother. "Come on. You're coming with me."

"What?" Gordon replied. "Why?"

"Why?" John echoed in shock. "Virgil's home, you're here, and Alan's missing! Why do you think?"

He dragged Gordon the rest of the way to his car.

* * *

Alan sighed for the hundredth time as he trudged down the street. By his watch, he'd been walking for almost an hour now, and he didn't seem any closer to his house than he'd been when he started.

His thoughts swirled in his mind, focusing on his brothers. He supposed he should be used to it by now; being the youngest, he was always pushed to the side.

Scott was twenty-one; it was hard for Alan at times to see him as his brother. When their mother died, Scott had taken over some of the responsibilities of caring for them. For Alan, that had also meant diaper changes, learning to speak and do simple things, and bedtime stories. There were times, though, that Scott had wanted to break away and do things on his own, with kids his own age. Alan supposed he couldn't fault Scott for that, but that hadn't made the brush-off hurt any less.

John was nineteen, and he had always tried to do best by Alan. At least when he'd tried to get rid of Alan, he'd tried to be honest and nice about it. Alan did his best to give John a hard time about it, but John never just ditched him. Not like Gordon, and at times, Virgil.

Alan was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice a group of men in baggy clothes approach him from across the street. It wasn't until a large, immovable body moved into his path that he looked up and saw the five men surrounding him.

"What have we here?" the man in front of Alan said. "Looks like a little piggy that lost his way."

The other men laughed at the joke. Alan felt fear curl in his gut, and he swallowed hard. "E-Excuse me, please. I'm just trying to walk home. I don't want any trouble."

The men laughed again, causing Alan's skin to crawl. He tried to slip past the large roadblock, but the man placed a beefy hand on Alan's chest and pushed him back.

"What's the rush, piggy?" he asked. "Stay awhile and play."

Alan's stomach lurched, and he quickly ducked around the man and ran down the street at top speed. He could hear the group laughing behind him, and that spurred him onward. He ran for nearly ten minutes when he finally came to a small park. He darted through the few people who were there with their families and ran up to a large tree next to another side street. Dropping his backpack, Alan scurried up the tree onto a high branch. Putting his back to the trunk, he hugged his legs tightly to his chest and buried his face in his knees. His thin shoulders shook as he finally released the tears that had been building up. He was too scared to walk the rest of the way home; he could only hope that someone would notice he was missing and come look for him.

* * *

John sped through the streets as fast as the law would allow, hoping desperately to catch some sight of Alan walking along the road. He and Gordon had gone back to the high school and looked around, asking a few late stragglers if they had noticed the young boy since school. Getting no leads, the two Tracys had started to backtrack along the path that Alan had most likely taken back to their house. Along the way, John had called Scott to tell him and Virgil what was going on. Scott had ordered Virgil to stay home and cover for them with their father and wait for Alan while Scott joined in the search from his own vehicle. So far, no one had spotted the youngest Tracy.

"Wait, what's that?" Gordon suddenly said.

"What?" John asked.

Gordon pointed. "Over there, by that tree."

John pulled his car over to the curb, and the two boys jumped out and walked up to the object. John crouched down and picked it up.

"Alan's backpack," he murmured. He looked down at the backpack, then at the tree, then slowly lifted his eyes up into the branches. Through the leaves, he could just make out a small shape huddled high above.

"Alan?" John stood and thrust the backpack into Gordon's arms. He looked at Gordon. "Call Scott and tell him we've got Alan, and that we'll meet him at the house. Then go wait in the car. In the backseat."

Gordon went without a word. His attitude hadn't been one of a guilty person, but right now John didn't care about that. He could deal with Gordon when Alan was found, safe and sound.

John returned his gaze to the leaves. "Alan? It's John. Can you hear me?"

The figure didn't move. John felt his worry grow at the lack of response from his normally vocal and energetic brother. Taking a deep breath, John jumped up, catching hold of the lowest branch. Slowly, he began to climb the tree after Alan.

Alan didn't budge, even when John lifted himself onto the same branch and nudged him. John couldn't see Alan's face, but he could hear Alan's stifled sobs and saw the quaking of the boy's shoulders.

"Alan, it's me," John whispered, balancing himself next to Alan. "Are you okay?"

Alan sniffed and finally looked up. The tears still spilling from his bright blue eyes and the fear and anger shining from his face tore at John's heart, and he pulled Alan into a hug.

"Oh, Sprout, I'm so sorry," he said into Alan's hair. Alan clutched tightly at John's shirt, twisting the fabric out of shape.

"Th-They said they w-wanted to play," came Alan's muffled voice.

John tensed. "Who said they wanted to play?"

"Th-The men," Alan replied. "They came up to me on the street. I-I didn't know what to do. They said they wanted to play with me. I ran as fast as I could."

John felt anger swell in his stomach. Anger at Alan for not calling home for a ride, anger at Gordon for leaving him behind, and anger at the people who had tried to hurt his baby brother. He forced himself to be calm; Alan didn't need his anger right now.

"Let's get you home now, okay Sprout?" John said. "Come on."

Gently ruffling Alan's blond hair, John released Alan and began to climb back down the tree. Alan, to his relief, uncurled and followed him down. Once they were on the ground, Alan glanced around. "Where's my bag?"

"In the car," John told him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Let's get you home. You've got three other brothers worried sick about you."

Alan scowled, but made no comment. He walked with John back to the car and slid into the passenger seat. He glanced back at Gordon, but didn't say anything.

"Hey, Alan," Gordon greeted, somewhat uncomfortable.

John started up his car and drove back home, taking the shortest route possible.

The instant Alan walked through the door, Scott and Virgil descended on him. Alan was drawn into fierce hugs, hearing snatches of words from both brothers. He didn't understand what they were saying, but he caught the gist of it.

"Alan!"

Scott and Virgil pulled back, giving Jeff Tracy a clear path to his youngest child. Jeff knelt down and drew Alan into a protective embrace.

"Thank God you're all right," he said.

John and Gordon gave Scott and Virgil confused looks. Scott rolled his eyes.

"I should have known better than to leave Virgil to cover for us," he muttered. "He's an awful liar. Dad found out before I got back."

Virgil shrugged. "So sue me. He was going to find out anyway."

Jeff pulled back and held Alan's face in his hands. His eyes scanned his son, looking for anything out of place. "Are you all right?"

Alan nodded wordlessly, his eyes swimming once more in tears. He leaned back into his father, who stood and scooped him up into his arms. Alan wrapped his arms around his father, burying his face into Jeff's neck. Jeff looked at his other four sons.

"I'll be back in ten minutes," he stated. "We're all going to have a little talk about what happened tonight. Meet me in my office."

"Yes, sir," the four boys replied. Nodding, Jeff turned and carried Alan up the stairs and out of sight. As soon as he was out of earshot, Scott and Virgil rounded on John.

"Where was he?" Scott demanded. "Gordon didn't tell us much."

"Up a tree," John replied grimly. I'll tell you everything when Dad gets back. I'd rather tell this story once."

The boys moved to their father's office and took seats around the room, claiming the couch and some chairs near a fireplace. They left a seat for Jeff for when he returned.

It was closer to twenty minutes when Jeff arrived, and one look at his face told his older sons that this was not going to be a very pleasant discussion. Instead of sitting down, he stood over his sons, arms folded.

"How's Alan?" Scott asked, trying to delay the inevitable.

"Asleep," Jeff replied. "It took me a while to get him there, and I didn't like what he told me. Would one of you care to explain to me just what the hell happened tonight?"

Scott and John glanced at Virgil, then all three looked at Gordon. Jeff followed their gaze and frowned deeply.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you tell me this morning that you and Alan would catch a ride home with your friend Mark after school today?" he asked.

Gordon cleared his throat. "Um . . . I might have said that."

"Might have?" Jeff repeated sternly.

Gordon sighed. "Okay, I said that, but that was before Mark suggested we hit the mall after school. Alan's such a pest when he tags along; always whining and wanting to do what he wants and bugging my friends. I figured he could just catch a ride home with Virgil."

Jeff's eyes slid over to Virgil, who shook his head. "I didn't know. I never even saw Alan today."

Jeff looked over at Scott, then John. "So let me get this straight. Alan tried to catch up to you, and you left him behind at school. He couldn't find Virgil in time, and so he decided to walk home. Alone."

"We're lucky no one tried to mess with him," Scott added.

John shifted uneasily.

Jeff's eyes focused on his second born. "What?"

John looked in his father's eyes, then down at his shoes. "Alan told me . . . he said that some guys came up to him on the street. They said they wanted to 'play' with him. We found him up a tree, hiding from them."

Jeff closed his eyes. His sons could see the vein in their father's forehead begin to throb and braced themselves.

"OF ALL THE IRRESPONSIBLE, INCONCEIVABLE . . ." Jeff began to walk away, but came back quickly. "I THOUGHT I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! ALAN COULD HAVE BEEN HURT, HE COULD HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED . . . HE COULD HAVE DIED! He is your BROTHER! He should rate a little higher on your priority list than your friends, REGARDLESS of how much of a pain you think he is! What the HELL were you thinking, leaving Alan to fend for himself? He's TWELVE!"

"Dad, I'm sorry!" Gordon tried to say.

"You should be!" Jeff went on. "I have to trust each one of you to look out for the others younger than you! You failed Alan today, Gordon, and you're damn lucky to have been given another chance to do right by him."

Gordon looked back down at his shoes. "Yes, sir."

Jeff started to walk towards the door, but paused before leaving. "You're grounded for two months. No TV, no music, no friends. You go to school, you come straight home. I hope you take that time to reevaluate your priorities."

Jeff left the boys in an uncomfortable silence. John and Scott looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.

Gordon shifted uncomfortably on the couch, aware of his brothers' eyes on him. Huffing in anger and frustration, Gordon stood and stormed angrily out of the study.

* * *

It was nearing three in the morning, and Scott still couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw indistinct shapes swarming around his baby brother, intent on harming him. The very idea that he had nearly lost Alan that day scared him more than he liked to admit. It didn't matter that Alan was sleeping soundly just down the hall; the idea that it could have happened was enough to haunt Scott.

Realizing that he wasn't going to be getting to sleep anytime soon, Scott tossed his covers aside. Glancing over at John and Virgil, sleeping peacefully, Scott made his way to the door and into the hall.

He made no sound as he approached the room Gordon and Alan shared. He wanted to check on Alan before moving downstairs.

Scott pushed the door open and slipped inside. He froze when he saw a figure sitting beside Alan, but then relaxed when he realized it was his father.

Jeff turned to look at his eldest son. "You're up awfully late," he commented.

"So're you," Scott replied, moving further into the room. He looked down at Alan. The younger boy was curled on his side towards his father, his face unlined in slumber.

Jeff followed his eyes and lightly brushed Alan's hair back. "Couldn't sleep. I just keep thinking how close we came . . ."

"Yeah, me too," Scott admitted.

They lapsed into silence for a few moments.

"You'd better get some sleep if you want to be ready for work tomorrow," Scott commented.

"I'm taking a couple weeks off," Jeff told him. "Today made me realize that my own priorities need to be rearranged. I know you boys have not been happy with the hours I've been putting in at the office. I'm going to let Alan stay home with us tomorrow, then Saturday we're going to go on a vacation. All six of us."

"Sounds good," Scott said. "Where are we going?"

Jeff smiled. "It's a surprise. No one's going to know till we get there." He looked back at Scott. "Now get yourself to bed. You're going to need your rest for tomorrow."

Scott nodded and retreated back into the hall. To his surprise, he felt tired. Returning to his bed, he closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

End Chapter One


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

Three months later

Alan hurried across the street towards the high school. He hadn't meant to stay behind after school, but one of his teachers had pulled him aside to talk, and now he was running late. Gordon was going to kill him.

Ever since being left behind three months ago, Gordon had acted very cold towards him. Usually, Gordon was his biggest ally, his partner in pranks. Since getting in trouble, Gordon treated him as though he were a stranger. He only let Alan tag along on rides to and from school because their father made him. Other than that, it was as if Alan didn't exist. Alan never told anyone about the behavior, but deep down it hurt. He felt as though he had lost one of his best friends.

Alan ran into the parking lot, narrowly dodging a jeep. He ignored the angry calls and curses of the teenagers as he raced towards his meeting place with Gordon.

The bike racks lining the wall closest to the parking lot had a few people milling about, but no faces stood out. Alan paused, eyes scanning the area, looking for his brother.

"Gordon?" Alan moved closer as the last of the bikers left. An uneasy feeling crept into his stomach, and he shook it off. His brother was just running late. There was no way Gordon would have left him behind again.

Alan set his backpack down by the bike rack and jumped on top. He held his arms straight out at his sides, maintaining his balance, as he walked along the rack. He knew his brothers would have a fit if they saw him doing it. Alan smirked. Served them right for leaving him on his own.

He paced along the bike rack several times, but grew bored and jumped off. He picked up his backpack and decided to go looking around the lot for Gordon or his friend.

Those high school students who did not participate in after school activities were fleeing the lot like recently released prisoners. Alan paced the length of the parking lot two times, not seeing any sign of Gordon, Mark, or Mark's car. The sinking feeling returned to his stomach. Had Gordon abandoned him again?

Alan turned and headed for the high school. After the last time, Jeff, Scott, John, and Virgil had all pounded into his head to call home for a ride if he was stranded. Looking back, even Alan acknowledged that that would have been the best solution to his problem, and he had promised to do so.

Most of the doors were locked. Alan had to circle around the building and enter through the front door. Glancing around, he located a pat phone right outside the office. Digging into his backpack, Alan withdrew the proper amount of change needed and put them into the phone. He decided to call home first.

No answer.

Alan frowned at the phone as his change returned. Scott and John were away at school, so that option was out. Dropping the coins back into the phone, Alan decided to try Virgil's cell phone.

Voicemail.

"Yeah, Virgil, it's me. I'm at the high school, and I can't find Gordon. I guess I'll try Dad's office."

He hung up and pulled out some more change. He smiled faintly as a memory returned to him from three months before. Upon telling Alan to use the pay phone the next time he needed a ride, his father, Scott, and John had all given him so much pocket change for his backpack that his bag weighed an additional two pounds. Dropping the quarters into the slot, Alan dialed his father's office.

"Tracy Enterprises."

"Hi, Mrs. Ferris, is my Dad there? This is Alan."

"Oh, hello, dear," his father's grandmotherly receptionist replied warmly. "No, I'm sorry. He's in the middle of an important business meeting and asked that he not be disturbed. Is it an emergency?"

Alan thought for a moment. "Ah, no. Just tell him I called?"

"I'll do that, dear. Bye now."

"Bye." Alan hung up the phone and walked over to a row of chairs across the hall. Sinking into one, he set his backpack on the floor by his feet. Now what? His family had told him to call for a ride, but they had never told him what to do if he couldn't get a hold of one of them.

Walking home was not an option.

He didn't have any money for a cab; not that any cab driver in his right mind would pick up a twelve-year-old anyway.

Alan frowned down at his shoes. He decided to wait there as long as possible, and try to call again later.

* * *

Gordon let out another loud laugh across the table from his friend at the pizza shop in the mall. Mark joined in the laughter, then glanced out at the passersby.

"How about that guy?" he asked, pointing at a man in a business suit walking in their direction.

Gordon rolled his eyes, but picked up his straw. Taking careful aim, he took a deep breath and blew through the straw as hard as possible. A large spitball came sailing out of his straw and latched onto the man's lapel. The man reeled back slightly in disgust, then anger, and he looked around the mall for the culprits. Mark and Gordon quickly assumed looks of nonchalance until the man stormed away. As soon as he had gone, they broke into snickers.

"Man, that was hilarious!" Mark said. "Glad you're back, Gordie. It's been a dull couple of months without you."

Gordon's smile fell into a scowl. "Tell me about it. Being grounded is no picnic. And all because my stupid brother couldn't get a ride home. He probably got everybody all worked up so they'd feel sorry him and get mad at me."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "Where is he now? I noticed we cut last period so we could avoid the rush in the lot."

Gordon shrugged. "I dunno, but he'll be fine. After last time, there's no way he'll walk home alone again."

"Won't you get into trouble for leaving him behind again?" Mark wanted to know.

"Alan's a pest, but he's not a snitch," Gordon said. "He'll find a way home, give me hell over it, and that'll be the end of it."

"You're pretty confident," Mark observed.

"Hey, we're brothers," Gordon stated. "Come on. I wanna go check out the CD store for the new arrivals."

* * *

Alan sat back down in his chair and sighed. He'd just tried to call for someone to come pick him up, but there was still no response. It was now six o'clock, and the high school was deserted save for the janitorial staff. Alan wondered how much longer it would be before someone noticed he was missing.

"Hey there, kiddo. You don't look old enough to be a student here."

Alan looked up at the figure of a tall, bulky man dressed in a suit and tie. He had thinning blond hair and brown eyes.

"Uh, no sir," Alan replied. "I'm waiting on my brothers. They'll be finished anytime now, and we'll be going home."

"Funny," the man commented. "I thought everyone else had already gone home for the night."

Alan shrugged. He didn't know who the man was, and felt uncomfortable sharing any more information with him.

The man's eyes suddenly lit in recognition. "You're one of Tracy's boys, aren't you? You all look so much alike, I'm surprised I didn't recognize you sooner."

Alan gave the man a strange look. He didn't think he and his brothers looked anything alike, but then some people could just be so blind.

"It's getting awfully late," the man went on. "Tell you what; I'll give you a lift home."

Warning bells immediately went off in Alan's mind. "Uh, no thanks, sir. Like I said, I'm waiting on my brothers. They'll be done soon."

"Nonsense, son," the man insisted. "The school's empty. I saw your brothers leave earlier today. We can't just leave you stranded, can we?"

"I really think I should wait for my brothers," Alan said weakly. Tension began to coil in his stomach.

"I insist." The man took Alan's backpack. "Come on. My car's right outside. I'll have you home before anyone knows you're gone."

Alan pondered that thought. "At least let me leave a message for my brothers so they know not to wait for me."

The man nodded. Alan went to the phone, then turned back to the man. "I don't even know who you are."

Oh, forgive me," the man said. "Jason Taggart, at your service. I teach math."

Alan nodded, then dialed home. Once the answering machine beeped, he said, "Hey, Dad, or whoever gets this message. I'm still at the high school, but Mr. Taggart, a teacher here, said he'd take me home, so I guess I'll see you guys soon. Bye."

He hung up and turned to Taggart. "Okay, sir. Ready whenever you are."

* * *

The door to the Tracy household opened, and Jeff walked in. Removing his jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack, he called out, "Virgil? Gordon? Alan? You boys home?"

Not receiving a response, Jeff went to drop his briefcase off in his study and went into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. He found some leftovers from the night before and popped it into the microwave. While he waited for his dinner to cook, Jeff dipped into his pocket and removed his message slips that his receptionist had left on his desk before she had gone for the night.

There were ten slips of paper, and half of them were from Alan. Frowning, Jeff left the kitchen in search of his son. Alan rarely ever called him at the office. For him to call five times was unheard of.

Alan wasn't in his bedroom, or anywhere else upstairs. A thorough search through the downstairs came up with the same result: Jeff was alone in the house.

The front door opened, and he hurried into the foyer. Virgil stood just inside the door, his eyes wide with surprise upon seeing his father run into view.

"Dad?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Where were you?" Jeff demanded.

"With my friends at a movie," Virgil replied. "I already asked you, remember?"

"Do you know where Alan and Gordon are?" Jeff continued.

Virgil shook his head. "No, why?"

"Check your voicemail," Jeff said, ignoring the question.

Giving his father a strange look, Virgil took out his cell phone and checked his messages. A frown creased his face.

"I have three messages," Virgil told him. "All from Alan. He can't find Gordon, and he's stuck at school without a ride."

Jeff's face darkened.

"Did you check our machine?" Virgil asked, closing his phone.

Jeff looked at Virgil in surprise and, turning, headed back into his study with Virgil hot on his heels. They reached the machine at the same time.

The message light was blinking furiously. There were several messages from the youngest Tracy, all along the same line.

"If someone gets this, could you please come get me? I'm at the office in the high school."

"I can't find anyone to give me a ride home."

"You know, a backpack full of quarters are pretty useless if I can't actually talk to a human being."

"I'm beginning to think I live with a family of robots or something, with all of the automated messages I've been hearing. Could somebody please come and get me?"

"Hey, Dad, or whoever gets this message. I'm still at the high school, but Mr. Taggart, a teacher here, said he'd take me home, so I guess I'll see you guys soon. Bye."

The machine beeped several times, signifying the end of the messages. Jeff looked at Virgil, who was frowning in confusion. "Who's Mr. Taggart?"

Virgil shook his head. "I haven't heard of him. He must be a new teacher or something."

Jeff checked his watch. "Alan left that last message fifteen minutes ago. He should be home soon."

Virgil's eyes darkened. "I wonder what happened to Gordon."

"Good question." Jeff led Virgil back out of the study and into the kitchen. "I fully intend to find out."

* * *

Gordon waved once more to Mark, then stepped into his house. Hanging up his jacket, he moved into the kitchen, looking for a snack.

He took all of two steps into the kitchen when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm firmly. Gordon was about to shout at the person who had seized him when he found himself staring up at Virgil's angry face. The complaints died on Gordon's lips.

"Where the hell have you been?" Virgil hissed.

"Out with Mark," Gordon replied indignantly. "What business is it of yours?"

"Alan never made it home."

Gordon frowned. "What?"

Virgil forced Gordon over to the table and shoved him into a chair. "Dad's on the phone right now with the police. Alan left messages with every number he knew for a ride home today, because he couldn't find the one person who was actually supposed to take him."

Gordon scowled. "I can't believe it! The little squirt actually ratted me out?"

Virgil cuffed him from behind his head. "Are you even listening? Alan's missing! A teacher from the high school supposedly gave him a ride home, but that was an hour and a half ago! He should have been here by now!"

Gordon's jaw moved up and down. "I . . . he . . . what?"

"Virgil!" Jeff stormed into the kitchen. "Call Scott and John, and . . ." He trailed off when he saw his second youngest son in the kitchen. "Gordon! Where the hell have you been? Your brother is missing, and I had no idea where you were, if something happened to you!"

"I-I went to the mall with Mark," Gordon stammered.

"I thought we went over this three months ago!" Jeff continued fervently. "Now here we are, right back here again. I can't seem to find anyone who knows who this 'Mr. Taggart' is, who supposedly gave Alan a ride home, and . . . look, I can't deal with this right now. Gordon, go to your room and stay there. The police are on their way; they'll probably want to talk to you when they get here. Virgil, get a hold of your brothers and let them know what's going on. Gordon . . . just go."

Virgil took out his cell phone and retreated from the room. Gordon stared at his father in disbelief, but Jeff wouldn't even meet his eyes. A little shell-  
shocked, Gordon stood and did as he was told. He paused at the doorway and looked at the back of his father's head.

"Did you say Mr. Taggart gave Alan a ride home?" Gordon asked quietly.

Jeff turned to him. "Do you know him?"

Gordon found himself looking down at his shoes. "Sort of. He's been subbing for Mrs. Allen's math class for the past couple of weeks while Mrs. Allen's out on maternity leave. Mark has him for second period; I've seen him around."

Jeff gave a start. "Mark? Your friend Mark?"

Gordon nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Call him," Jeff ordered. "Have him come over here, now. I don't care what you have to do, just get him here."

"Yes, sir." Gordon shifted uncomfortably. "Dad?"

"Yes?" Jeff asked.

Gordon risked a look at his father's stern eyes. "About Alan . . ."

Jeff sighed heavily. "We'll worry about that after Alan's back home with us."

Gordon nodded dejectedly and, turning, headed out of the kitchen to call his friend.

* * *

Alan watched the scenery pass by at a quick pace, frowning when Taggart drove past the road that led to Alan's home. "Hey, Mr. Taggart, my house is back there. You missed it."

"No, I didn't," Taggart replied.

Alan turned to the teacher. "Uh, yeah, you did. I live back there."

"I know," Taggart said calmly.

"Okay." Alan tried to control the rising unease in his stomach. "Well, you can turn back anytime."

"I know."

A cold wind blew through Alan. "Um . . . could we get back to my house? My dad and brothers are going to be worried about me."

"I'm not taking you back to your house," Taggart told him.

Alan swallowed hard. "Then . . . where are you taking me?"

"I'm taking you somewhere where we won't be disturbed."

Alan fought back a wave of nausea. He didn't stop to think about what he was doing; he just reacted. Before Taggart could pick up any more speed, he opened the car door and leaped out.

Alan hit the ground hard and rolled as the sound of screeching brakes filled the air. Ignoring the sharp burst of pain in his leg, Alan rose onto his feet and began to run back towards his street. The sound of shoes on pavement close behind him spurred him on.

A sudden weight struck Alan around the knees, and he went down hard. He struggled against Taggart's restraining grip, but Taggart was too big and too strong.

"Don't fight me, Alan," Taggart ordered. A bolt of fear went through Alan; he had never told Taggart his name.

"Who are you?" Alan demanded, trying to free himself. "How do you know who I am?"

"There will be time for answers later," Taggart stated, bodily lifting Alan off of the ground and carrying the boy back to his car. Shifting the child into a one-armed grasp, Taggart opened the trunk of his car and forced Alan into it. Before Alan could try and escape, Taggart slammed the trunk shut. Casting a quick glance around, Taggart slid back into the driver's seat and roared away from town.

* * *

Scott and John nearly collided with each other in their haste to enter their home. Two police cars were parked in their driveway, along with another unfamiliar vehicle. Despite the fact that it was nearly two in the morning, every light in the house was on.

"Dad!" Scott yelled, the same time John called for Virgil.

Virgil appeared and found himself immediately drawn into his older brothers' protective grasps.

"Has there been any news?" John demanded.

"Where's Dad?" Scott added.

Virgil pulled back. "Dad's in the study with the police and Gordon's friend Mark. I went out to see if I could find any sign of Alan or that teacher, but I couldn't find anything. It's as if Alan's disappeared off the face of the planet."

"What about Gordon?" John asked.

Virgil's expression, if possible, became even more worried. "In his room. He hasn't come out since Dad sent him there earlier. I think he's really feeling guilty about this."

"Good," Scott said angrily. "We wouldn't even be in this mess if it hadn't been for him."

"Scott, he's just a kid," John said quietly. "I'm not any less angry, but he is only fifteen."

"Well, you know what?" Scott replied hotly. "Alan's only twelve, and he's out God knows where with some guy who wants to hurt him. So forgive me if I save my concern for someone who actually deserves it."

He tore down the hall towards his father's study. Virgil and John watched him go, then turned to one another.

"I'm going to go check on Gordon," John told Virgil. "You wanna come with?"

Virgil nodded, and he followed his older brother up the stairs to the bedroom that Gordon and Alan shared. John knocked softly, then pushed the door open.

Gordon was lying in Alan's bed, staring up at the ceiling with tears shining in his eyes. In his arms was an old stuffed bear that had been passed down to Alan from Virgil.

"Gordon?" Virgil asked tentatively.

Gordon ignored the call. John and Virgil moved further into the room, Virgil sitting on Gordon's bed as John took a place beside Gordon.

"'Are you all right?" Virgil tried again. He was truly worried; he had never seen Gordon stay so still and quiet for so long.

"I thought he'd be okay," Gordon said, his voice so soft that his brothers had to strain to hear him. "I really thought he'd be all right. Now, if he dies, it'll be all my fault."

"Hey," John said sharply. "Don't you dare think like that! Alan's not going to die."

"How do you know?" Gordon demanded in a sudden burst of life. "Were you there? Do you know where he is now? What that teacher might be doing right this minute!"

Tears were pouring out of Gordon's dark eyes. John, despite his anger with his younger brother, drew him into a tight hug. No matter how mad or frustrated he got with Gordon, he hated to see him cry.

"We're going to find him," John stated confidently. "We will. You'll see."

* * *

Alan winced and let out a groan when he shifted his body in the cramped trunk. His whole body felt like one giant bruise, but his left leg in particular throbbed relentlessly.

His heart thudded in his chest. He knew he shouldn't have ignored his instincts; his family had told him never to get into vehicles with strangers. The fact that this man was a teacher at his brothers' high school should not have mattered.

Alan shrugged that last thought away. Lesson learned, after the fact. Next time he'd know better.

If there was a next time.

The car slowed down. Alan wasn't sure how long Taggart had been driving, but trapped in the small, enclosed space, it had felt like hours. Alan was anxious to get out of there.

The car rolled to a gentle stop, and the engine turned off. Footsteps approached the rear of the car. Alan shifted his body so that when Taggart opened the trunk, he would be able to spring out of it and run away. As an afterthought, Alan felt around the trunk for something to use as a weapon. His fingers closed around a slender, metal tire iron, and he gripped it tightly.

The trunk lock clicked, and the lid began to rise. As soon as Alan saw Taggart, he popped out of the trunk like a jack-in-the-box and swung the tire iron with all his strength. Caught completely by surprise, Taggart took the full force of the tire iron on the side of his head. He dropped like a stone to the ground, barely holding on to threads of consciousness. Alan, still clutching the tire iron, sprang out of the back of the car and began to run as fast as he could down the road, not even paying attention to his surroundings. He just wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and Taggart.

Trees lined the road that Alan found himself on. Glancing behind him for any pursuers, Alan veered sharply into the cover that the forest provided.

Branches whipped at Alan, causing scrapes to appear on his face and uncovered arms. Still, he didn't stop. He had to find help; he had to find a phone and call home.

A sudden noise ahead caused Alan to alter his course. He didn't even wait to see the source. Fear drove him now, causing him to forget or ignore his pain and search for safety. More than anything now, he wanted to be back home. He wanted to see his father, get picked on by his brothers. Even see Gordon.

Alan continued to run until he felt as though his legs would give out at any given moment, then ran to a tree and began to climb as quickly as he could. He didn't think Taggart would find him for at least a little while. Even if he did, he probably wouldn't be able to climb the tree and reach him. Alan climbed to the highest branch that would hold his weight and obscure him from sight by someone on the ground, and drew himself into as small a ball as he could. Burying his face into his knees, he let out a shuddering breath.

Safe, if only for a little while.

* * *

Jeff rubbed his face wearily and downed the rest of his coffee. It was now five in the morning, and he had called in every favor he had, and then some. So far, there had been no word on Alan's whereabouts.

Scott was draped over the couch in his study, having finally passed out from exhaustion an hour before. Jeff hadn't seen John yet, but he knew his older boys were all home. He supposed that John was with Virgil and Gordon, which was just as well. John was the most sensitive of the Tracy boys, and his younger sons needed the comfort that only John could give them.

Jeff stood and moved into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. He wanted to be alert if anything came through about Alan or Taggart. He would sleep after Alan was safe.

"Good idea. Poor me one, too?"

"John." Jeff turned and drew John into a tight hug. "How're the boys?"

"Worried, scared; Gordon's feeling guilty as hell," John replied, taking the mug his father offered him. "I think this is really hitting home with him this time."

"I hope it does," Jeff confided to John. "Maybe then he'll understand the idea of responsibility where Alan is concerned."

"Maybe," John agreed blandly.

Jeff sighed. "How long does it take for a background check to be run?" he asked. "It's been hours."

"What could Taggart want with Alan?" John asked abruptly. "Did he plan this, or was this spur of the moment, or does someone else have him altogether?"

The phone rang, interrupting the questioning. Jeff snatched it off the hook and barked a greeting into the receiver. John watched his father, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"What?" Jeff's face paled, and he looked as though he were going to be sick. "Are you sure?"

John became worried as he watched his father listen to the rest of whatever was being said. Jeff took a deep breath, a little color returning to his cheeks. "Thanks, Jack, I owe you several." He hung up the phone and looked at John. "That was my friend down at the DA's office. He said that this man, Jason Taggart, is an alias for Jason Biggs."

"Okay," John said. "What does that mean?"

"Jack had to cross-reference some names, but he did find a pattern." Evidently, John was about to learn what had made Jeff look sick to his stomach, and he didn't like it one bit. "Apparently, Biggs hides out by assuming normal jobs within schools so that he can feed into his fetish."

"Which would be . . .?" John prompted, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Jeff swallowed hard. "Young, blond-haired, blue-  
eyed boys."

Nausea swelled in John's stomach, and he found himself swallowing harshly to keep his stomach's contents where they belonged. "Y-You mean . . . Alan's been kidnapped by . . . a predator?"

Jeff winced. "It looks that way. Three other boys fitting Alan's description have disappeared not long after Biggs leaves his temp job with the school. He must have noticed Alan when Alan caught his ride home with his brothers, and decided that last night was an opportunity that was too good to pass up."

John's face hardened. "If he so much as lays one finger on Alan's head . . ."

"You'll have to wait in line," Jeff told him. "Jack also gave me a possible address for Biggs. It's a timeshare condo about an hour out of town. The police called the other holders; apparently, it's someone else's turn, so they haven't checked it out yet. I think, though, that it's a good place to start."

"Then let's go!" John set down his mug. "I'll wake the boys." "I'll let Scott know," Jeff called after him. "Meet us at the van in twenty."

Within fifteen, the Tracys were already out on the road.

* * *

The sound of leaves crunching shook Alan out of a sound sleep. Almost immediately, memories rushed back to him, and he froze. Had he really fallen asleep?

He must have; the morning sunlight was pouring through the leaves of the trees. Alan shifted his body ever so slightly and looked down, searching for the source of the disturbance.

A figure shadowed by the leaves was slowly making its way across the ground, approaching the base of Alan's tree. Alan held his breath and kept his body absolutely still as the figure paused directly below him.

"Alan, I know you're out there. Come on out; I won't hurt you."

Alan began to shiver in fear. Taggart's voice was eerily calm; almost as if he were genuinely concerned about him. The young Tracy watched Taggart as he slowly passed below and moved on deeper into the woods.

He waited, frozen, for time to pass. How long could he hide up a tree? Sure, Taggart didn't know where he was, but neither did his family. Surely, they were looking for him by now, but how long would it be before they even thought to look here?

Alan hated the decision he was about to make, but he knew it was the right one.

After another half hour of checking and double-checking for Taggart, Alan silently climbed back down to the ground. Picking his way around the leaves and twigs, he began to walk quickly in the opposite direction his pursuer had taken.

A sharp noise close by caused Alan to freeze in place. He cast wide blue eyes around, then took off like a shot, not bothering to disguise his footsteps any longer. His heart filled with dread when he heard a second pair of feet in hot pursuit.

"Don't run from me, Alan," Taggart called out. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

Alan ignored him, pushing himself to run even faster. Just ahead, in the distance, stood a two-story log cabin. The boy glanced back quickly, then continued on the path to the cabin. He prayed fervently that someone was home, that someone would help him.

A sudden force plowed into him from behind, and Alan rolled on the ground, tangled with Taggart's larger form. The bulk of the teacher's weight landed awkwardly on Alan's injured leg, and he cried out when he felt something snap. White stars exploded before Alan's eyes as they immediately filled with tears.

Taggart managed to disentangle himself from Alan, his hands gripping the child's arms painfully. He hauled Alan up and slung him effortlessly over his shoulder, then began to walk to the cabin.

Alan twisted and writhed in Taggart's hold, yelling at the top of his lungs for somebody, anybody, to help him. His voice echoed among the trees, unanswered.

"You can yell all you want, Alan," Taggart told him, opening the door to the cabin and stepping inside. "The nearest human is twenty miles away. We won't be disturbed."

"M-My family will come looking for me," Alan stated fiercely, his voice shaking. "Th-They know who-who you are, and . . ."

"They think they know," Taggart corrected, carrying Alan into a bedroom and dropping the boy onto the bed. He latched a hand onto Alan's injured leg, causing him to cry out again. "You aren't my first, Alan. No one is coming. By the time they figure out who I really am and where we are, this will all be over."

He lifted a large, metal cuff attached to a long chain and fastened it securely around Alan's injured ankle. As soon as he released Alan, the boy leaped up off of the bed, intent on escaping. The instant he put pressure on his leg, however, he crumpled to the ground. Tears poured from his eyes, and he tried once again to stand. He was met with similar results.

"I wouldn't move around too much," Taggart advised, his voice calm as he dispensed the advice. "That leg looks broken to me."

"Well, thank you, Doctor Taggart, or whoever the hell you are," Alan shot back scathingly.

Taggart didn't react to the curse. Instead, he reached out and gently traced a finger down the side of Alan's face. Alan recoiled in disgust, fear twisting in his gut.

"I'm going to finish the preparations, but I'll be back soon," Taggart told him. "Be good."

Alan watched Taggart leave the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. As soon as he had gone, Alan immediately leaned over and emptied what little he had in his stomach all over the floor.

He had to get out of here.

Now.

* * *

The ride out of town and through the heavily wooded area was spent largely in tense silence. Jeff's face was grim as he guided his van along the road. Scott rode beside him, eyes fixed on something that only he could see. John, Virgil, and Gordon were all strapped in the back of the van, each lost in thought.

"Wh-What does Mr. Taggart want with Alan?" Gordon's voice was soft, tentative. It was the first time he'd tried to speak to his father since the night before.

John met his father's eyes through the rearview mirror as Scott's jaw tightened. Jeff had told his older sons the truth, but all agreed that Virgil and Gordon were better off left in the dark; at least for now.

"Let's just get to Alan before Mr. Taggart can do anything to him," Jeff replied.

Gordon's eyes dropped to his hands in his lap, but not before John could see the hurt and shame in them. He reached over and squeezed his younger brother's shoulder.

"I see it," Scott said suddenly, his voice tense.

Sure enough, through the trees, everyone could see the winding dirt path leading up to a broad cabin. No lights were lit, though the sun had reached high enough in the sky for it to be unnecessary.

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," Virgil observed.

Jeff guided his van to a halt and stepped out. Scott and John joined him, but before the younger Tracys could follow suit, Jeff stopped them.

"You two wait here," he ordered. "Gordon, I'm going to need you to identify this guy, but only after we decided it's safe. Virgil, you watch him."

It was a sign of how serious the situation was when no one offered a protest. Jeff's protective instincts were flaring, and none of his sons were willing to go against them.

At least, not in front of him.

"Gordon!" Virgil exclaimed as Gordon opened the door of the van. He quickly glanced over athis father and older brothers, who hadreached the front door of the cabin.

Gordon looked back at him. "It's my fault Alan's in this mess! I'm not going to just sit around and watch Dad handle it. I got him in, I'll get him out. You with me or not?"

Casting another glance at his father's back, Virgil sighed and followed his younger brother around the back of the cabin.

* * *

Jeff pounded on the door yet again, his impatience shining through. He knew his sons were surprised by his behavior, but that was the least of his worries. He wanted to see, to hold his baby boy again, and he didn't care what he had to do to make it happen.

He was interrupted mid-pound as the door opened to reveal a man not much shorter than Jeff himself, though he had about one hundred more pounds on him. His frame was stocky, but Jeff suspected a lot of it was muscle. He had thinning blond hair, and his eyes were the color of ice. He examined Jeff curiously for a moment before looking over at Scott. He gave Scott a quick once-over, then turned to John. The man's gaze was more lingering, and John shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

_"Apparently, Biggs hides out by assuming normal jobs within schools so that he can feed into his fetish."_

_"Which would be . . .?"_

_"Young, blond-haired, blue-eyed boys."_

The sudden memory from earlier that morning caused Jeff to insinuate himself between the man and his other blond child. His brown eyes pierced the man's like daggers.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, unphased by Jeff's erratic behavior.

"We're looking for someone," Jeff stated. "My boys and I are camping just up the road, and I'm afraid my youngest got separated from us. Have you seen him?"

The man shook his head. "I'm sorry, no. What does he look like?"

As Jeff described Alan to him, Scott and John exchanged glances, then snuck peeks at the cabin around the man. From what they could see, nothing seemed unusual or out of place.

"Well, I'll be sure to give you a holler if I see him," the man was saying.

"Thank you." Jeff waited until the man shut the door, then turned around. Grabbing John firmly by the bicep, he led his sons back to his van.

"It's him," he stated. "He fits Mark's description to a tee. Now all we need is for Gordon . . ." He trailed off, his face paling, then turning red once they reached the van.

It was empty.

* * *

Virgil allowed Gordon to lead the way around to the back of the cabin, both boys peeking through the windows as they went. Each room was empty, and looked as if no one had used them in a while.

"Maybe we should go back and get the others," Virgil said, his voice low.

Gordon moved away from another window and moved on to the next. "You go back if you want to," he replied. "I'm not leaving until I know for sure that- ALAN!"

Virgil ran to Gordon and peered through the window. Sure enough, their younger brother was sitting on the floor, tugging futilely on a long chain attached to his leg. His face was stained with tears, the sight of which sent the older boys into a frenzy.

Alan looked up as they tapped insistently on the window. Eyes widening in shock, he crawled over to the window and used the wall to stand himself up. Unlocking the window, he fought with the weight and lifted it up.

Gordon and Virgil pried the screen away and reached in, hugging Alan through the window.

"Alan, thank God . . ." Virgil said.

"Are you all right?" Gordon demanded.

"My leg hurts," Alan told them. "And Mr. Taggart has me locked to the wall. I can't get out. Please, help me. I want to go home, please take me home."

"We won't leave without you," Virgil promised him. "Move back."

Alan did as he was told. Virgil laced his fingers together, and Gordon used the boost to climb into the room. As soon as he was inside, Virgil jumped up and clambered in after him.

Once they were all inside, the older boys drew Alan into their embrace once more. Alan clutched tightly at his brothers.

"Let's get you out of here." Gordon withdrew and crouched on the ground, examining Alan's ankle cuff. "Simple enough. Virgil, get me something I can use to pick the keyhole with. Preferably a wire."

Alan sank to the ground, easing the pressure on his injured leg. Wide blue eyes looked at Gordon. "You know how to pick locks?"

Gordon winked at his brother. "I've learned a couple things. It's useful to know how to escape from different stuff when you have people trying to tie you up all the time."

Alan grinned, giddy with relief.

"I'll have to remember that," Virgil stated, returning with a coat hangar. He sank down next to Alan and drew his little brother close, both watching as Gordon twisted the hangar and set to work.

A scratching sound caused the boys to stop and stare at the door. Alan's face drained of color. "He's coming back! Hurry, get me out of here!"

Gordon fiddled furiously with the cuff, then stopped in frustration when a key sounded in the lock of the door. Virgil and Gordon jumped to their feet.

"_Hide_!" they hissed at each other.

Gordon dove under the bed as Virgil ran for the closet. Before closing himself inside, he turned to Alan's stricken face.

"We aren't leaving you, Sprout, but if we're caught, it's all over," he told Alan. "Okay?"

Alan nodded, but fresh tears shined in his eyes. Virgil vowed right then that Taggart, or Biggs, would pay for what he'd done.

Virgil shut the closet door just as the bedroom door opened. Biggs strode into the room and knelt at Alan's side, inserting a key into the lock.

"I don't know how your family found us, but we have to move," he told the boy. "I didn't go through all this trouble to be stopped now."

As soon as Alan was free, he kicked his good leg up as hard as he could. His foot connected solidly with Biggs' groin, dropping the man to the ground like a stone. Gordon rolled out from under the bed the same time Virgil burst from the closet. Each brother took one of Alan's arms and began to run as fast as they could from the room.

"Nice shot, Sprout," Gordon said, his voice winded as they ran through the hall.

"How do we get out of here?" Virgil asked.

The boys ran through the long hallway, hunting for an exit. They burst through a large door and found themselves in a den. It was elegantly furnished, with lots of beautiful windows, but right now the boys needed a door.

They turned to find another way out when Biggs' body framed their only exit from the den. Startled, the boys stumbled backwards.

"It seems I have three little playmates now," he said, an eerie edge to his voice that sent shivers of dread through the younger Tracys. "Though you two boys aren't really my type."

Virgil and Gordon exchanged looks of shock and disgust, which gave way to fury when they finally understood exactly what Biggs was. They tightened their grips on their brother.

"Who would like to go first?" Biggs asked, advancing slowly on the boys.

"As a matter of fact, I would."

Biggs whirled around at the sound of Jeff's voice, just in time to have Jeff's fist connect with Biggs' nose.

"Dad!" Alan cried.

"Scott, John, get your brothers to the van!" Jeff ordered, ready to fight with the downed Biggs.

Scott and John raced into the room and to their brothers' sides. They grabbed handfuls of the boys' shirts, pushing them out of the den and away from the men.

Jeff blocked the doorway, shielding his sons' escape from Biggs. His fists clenched and rose as Biggs staggered to his feet. He barely had control over his rage; the only thing restraining him was the need to see his sons, all safe and sound.

"Did you touch him?" Jeff demanded, his voice dangerously low.

"Your boy has quite a spirit," Biggs said, blood pouring from his nose. "I've been watching him for awhile now."

Jeff lashed out again, this time aiming for Biggs' chin. Biggs blocked Jeff's blow and threw one of his own, connecting with the side of Jeff's head. Jeff staggered, stunned. Biggs took advantage of Jeff's temporary immobility and, lifting a nearby vase, brought it down on Jeff's head. Jeff fell to the ground.

Dropping the last of the vase to the floor beside the eldest Tracy, Biggs stepped around the still body and headed after the boys.

* * *

Scott and John tried to push their brothers faster through the house, but Alan was slowing them down. Finally, Scott swung Alan up into his arms and broke into a run, urging the others ahead.

They burst into the sunlight and raced each other to the car. They made it halfway there when Biggs exited the house, chasing after them.

"Scott!" Alan yelled fearfully into his eldest brother's ear.

The boys all paused and turned to see what Alan had seen. Gordon looked at John. "If he's out here, where's Dad?"

Scott turned and thrust Alan into John's arms. "Get the boys out of here!" he ordered, preparing to face off against the threat to his family.

"But," Gordon protested.

"Go!" Scott shouted.

Virgil grabbed Gordon's sleeve and pulled him after John and Alan. Scott didn't watch them go, intent on protecting his brothers' escape.

Biggs slowed as he approached Scott. "I didn't come this far to be stopped by the likes of you," he stated, anger beginning to cloud his features.

"And I'm not just going to let you hurt my brothers," Scott shot back. "Do yourself a favor and stop right there."

Biggs sneered. "Who's going to stop me? You?"

"No, me."

Biggs didn't have time to turn around this time as a heavy statue came crashing down on the back of his head. Biggs crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Standing over him was Jeff Tracy, slightly hunched over. A thin stream of blood trickled down the side of his face, but his eyes were clear and bright.

"Dad!" Scott exclaimed, stunned. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Jeff replied. "Let's tie up this piece of work and call the police."

As soon as they had bound Biggs with their belts, Jeff had Scott call 911 as he headed for the van. His heart thudded in his chest with anticipation.

"Boys?" he called.

"Dad!" Gordon and Virgil bolted from the van and nearly toppled their father in their haste to reach him. Jeff hugged them tightly.

"Don't you boys ever do that to me again!" he exclaimed. "When we got back to the van, and you two were gone . . ."

"We had to find Alan!" Gordon insisted. "I'm sorry we worried you."

Jeff squeezed his sons tightly, then looked past them to see John emerge from the van with Alan in his arms. As they approached, Jeff released Virgil and Gordon and held out his arms to his youngest child. Alan went willingly over to him, hugging him so tightly that he nearly cut off Jeff's flow of air. Jeff didn't care; he only held on tighter.

"Can we go home now, Daddy?" The tiny voice and old moniker told Jeff just how frightened his son had been. Suppressing another wave of anger, he nodded.

"As soon as the police arrive, Alan," he said softly. "Once they do, then we'll go home."

End Chapter Two


	3. Epilogue

Epilogue 

Jeff looked up from the book he was reading as the sounds of laughter filled the air. He was lounging comfortably in his backyard, enjoying the company of his boys as they played a questionably friendly game of volleyball. Despite the walking cast on Alan's foot, the Alan was managing to hold his own on his team against Virgil and John.

Since being rescued from Biggs, Alan had been unusually clingy, unwilling to be apart from any of his brothers for very long. Biggs hadn't done anything more than lock Alan up and break his leg, but it had been enough to haunt the boy. He spent every waking moment in the company of at least one brother, and was watched fiercely during slumber each night by a now protective Gordon.

Jeff smiled as Alan set the ball up for Scott to spike. Alan hadn't been the only one guilty of clinging to his brothers. Each of his brothers, too, were nearing the point of smothering Alan, and Jeff was wondering how much longer it would be before Alan's natural exuberance began to fight against them.

"What are you doing, john, wake up!" Virgil yelled at his teammate. "We're getting beaten by a stiff, a wimp, and a gimp!"

"Wonder which one's which," Gordon joked.

"Well, if you would quit grandstanding like some sort of Olympic volleyball champ or something, we'd actually score some points!" John shot back.

"Me grandstand?" Virgil echoed in disbelief. "I'm actually hitting the ball! Even Alan scored more points this game, and he hasn't even moved from his spot!"

"Are we going to play, or do we have to listen to you too bicker like little old ladies?" Gordon demanded.

"Shut up, Gordon!" John and Virgil barked simultaneously.

Jeff set his book down and stood. Crossing over to the net, he popped the ball out of John's hand, earning five quizzical stares in the process.

"I think a little back-up is in order," he stated.

"You're going to play?" Alan asked, his voice half-  
filled with disbelief.

"No fair!" Gordon cried. "You'll beat us!"

"All right, then," Jeff said. "You, me, and Alan against Scott, John, and Virgil. Sound fair?"

"Oh yeah," Scott said, grinning in anticipation.

"Bring it on," Virgil added.

"You guys are going down," John chimed in.

Jeff popped the ball into the air and hit a perfect serve directly in the middle of his older sons. All three, anxious to defeat their father, dove for it at the same time. Heads and hands collided, and the boys lay on the ground in a heap, the ball rolling on the ground nearby. Alan and Gordon burst into laughter.

"We'll see about that," Jeff replied to John's comment.

The sound of laughter filled the backyard once more.

The End


End file.
